There Comes You
by dakota423
Summary: "He is like the sun: the bringer of light to the frail little dandelion inside of me." Plagued by their inner demons, Katniss and Peeta find a way to come together again and be whole. Post-Mockingjay.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this universe. They are the property of Suzanne Collins.**

**Title: **There Comes You  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M for sexual situations and some brief language  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark  
><strong>Summary:<strong> _"He's looking at me with so much desire it hurts, like staring at the sun. But __that is what he is: the sunlight for the frail little dandelion inside of me, the banisher of all of the dark and shadowy things in my mind. He makes me radiant and new. And I will absorb as much of that light as I can."_In the dark of the night, Katniss finds her salvation in the arms of the Boy with the Bread.

**Author's Note: **Hi everyone. I've done it again. Jumped into a new sandbox. But Peeta and Katniss called to me. This is my first Hunger Games fanfiction, and my first shot at publishing a piece written in 1st person. So please leave kind and constructive reviews after reading. They are much appreciated and I use them to better my work. Thank you and please enjoy part one of this short duet.

**WARNING!**** THIS FIC CONTAINS ADULT MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE BETWEEN CHARACTERS THAT ARE CONSENTING ADULTS. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.** (but really, who's gonna say 'no' after that?)

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><p>Some nights are better than others.<p>

I wake up with a silent scream in my throat. With the charred corpses of children reaching for me, my name rasping from the skulls of skeletons with no faces, burned into my eyes. With hot tears streaming down my face. With my heart pounding, my lungs struggling to breathe.

But he is there next to me.

His arms are around me before I am fully aware that it was only a nightmare. He shushes me before the cries have died in my throat. He whispers my name, smoothing the hair from my sweaty brow, running his hands up and down my arms, my back. "Shh, Katniss. It's alright. Just a dream, it's okay."

He looks into my eyes, knowing very well I don't see blue, but red. Fire, smoke, ash. These things consume my vision, weigh down on my chest until I feel like I'll suffocate. But he holds me still, bears his gaze down on me until the fire dies and is replaced by sky. Blue eyes like the sky, wide and full of concern. He calls my name, urging me back to the waking world.

"Katniss, come on. Wake up, it was just a nightmare. It wasn't real. Not real..."

And then I am back, throwing my arms around him and clinging to his strong form. I'm still crying but I no longer hide it from him. We are past the point of hiding tears.

His hand finds my hair, twirling the end of my braid around his fingers, caressing my neck with the other. I feel his lips on my brow between his soothing murmurs, warm and soft against my skin, and the weight on my chest begins to lessen. These kisses are nothing new. The wall I put up to keep a distance between us always falls to rubble at these times.

It is his kisses that remind me that I am still alive.

"Peeta," I whisper, and he pulls away enough to look into my eyes, cupping my cheek in his calloused palm. He brushes a tear away with his thumb and peers cautiously into my face to see if I have fully returned from the darkness. I meet his gaze, so unbearably blue in the half light, and I realize that he's afraid. My heart begins to crumble.

"I'm okay," I croak. "I'm alright, it's okay."

He nods but his hands do not leave me. I don't want them to. I know he wants to kiss me, but I'm not sure if I want to kiss him, too.

In the end he makes up my mind for me. The first one is short, chaste - a simple press of his lips against mine, as if to test the waters. There have been many kisses like this in that last few months since I returned from the dark place my own mind had trapped me in, and they have all ended in the same way: I shy away, unwilling to go further, afraid to move on from any stable ground I had managed to find into uncertainty. But tonight, after dreaming of death, I don't want to shy away. I want his kisses. I want Peeta to make me feel alive again.

So when I press my lips back against his with an enthusiasm I haven't shown outside of an arena, I swear I can feel his heart rate double inside his chest. He gathers me to him, pulling my chest flush against his, but he kisses me with restraint, like I'll break. Or worse, pull away.

When we come up for air, he doesn't take his eyes off of me. He's uncertain, like this might be a dream. His voice trembles when he says my name. I can't tell if it's a plea or a prayer or both, so I take his hand in mine.

"Peeta, please," I whisper, and then bite my lip, realizing how stupid I sound, how awful I'm being, taking advantage of his concern to ease my own guilt. But he squeezes my hand and licks his lips like he wants to speak but can't find the words. It's so un-Peeta-like that I almost change my mind about all of it and roll over and go back to sleep. Instability. The firm ground beneath my feet begins to shift. I begin to panic.

"Peeta," I say again, and my voice is shaking as well as my body. I meet his eyes, and he must see something in them that answers his questions, because suddenly he's kissing me again, and the shaking stops. There is a twinge in my stomach that I recognize as the hunger I felt on the beach and in the cave, and I know that this is what I have been missing. This is what I have needed.

Peeta kisses me hard, like he'll never kiss me again because maybe all of this is a dream he'll wake up from before it's over. It's desperation I feel on his lips, and it is that that makes me speak up.

"Peeta," I say between his kisses. "Peeta, wait." When he freezes and looks at me, I press my hand to his chest and feel his heart pounding and his muscles tremble over it. I lick my lips and meet his blue, blue eyes and say the bravest thing I have ever said in my life.

"Please don't stop."

His mouth hangs open, unbelieving. "Katniss, are you sure-?"

I kiss him to shut him up. Peeta is eloquent, but sometimes his penchant for words gets in the way of more important things. My kiss is open-mouthed and we share a warm breath. I even clench the material of his shirt in my hands to get my point across. When we separate, something is different about his eyes. They are darker, his pupils dilated. For a moment I'm afraid he's having a hijacking attack, but then I realize he's not holding himself back from killing me. He's holding himself back from ravishing me. This knowledge frightens me and excites me at the same time. I decide to be brave again.

"Peeta, I -" I swallow and try again. "I want this." I take a deep breath and my voice sounds so small and pathetic when I speak again I want to bolt.

"I need you."

He's shaking now, I can feel it beneath my hands before he pulls away and sits up. He doesn't look at me when he starts to speak.

"Katniss, if we do this... if we go any further, I don't-" He sounds so lost, and I sit up and place a hand on his arm to make him continue, and he turns his head and looks me dead in the eyes and whispers, "I don't think I'll be able to stop."

I cup his face in my hands and press my forehead to his. He sighs deeply, and I kiss his lips. "I don't want you to stop," I whisper. He opens his eyes and for a moment all he does is breathe and stare me down. And then his mouth crashes against mine, and he does not stop.

My whole body is alight. Peeta's mouth is hot on mine, his large, rough hands in my hair that he has pulled and untangled from its braid, on my face and neck and shoulders and down my torso to my waist, my hips. He is everywhere at once, making up for so much wasted and lost time. Now, for the first time, these kisses are real for the both of us.

His tongue darts against my lips and I open to him, shyly touching mine to his and finding that he tastes of the rabbit stew from last night's dinner and chocolate. It's easily my favorite flavor and our tongues dance slowly with each other as our bodies move closer. I am lowered back to the bed, and his lips leave mine to trail across my jaw and down my neck to the hollow of my throat, where he sucks lightly. I gasp and grip his arms. His breath is hot on my skin as he nuzzles my neck, kissing and biting until I am panting. The hunger in my stomach has moved lower, and I discover that this is exactly what I want: to be with Peeta.

As he kisses me my hands run up and down his strong arms, across his broad shoulders, down his back until my fingers find the hem of his shirt and slide beneath the material to feel the smooth warmth of his lower back. My nails graze his skin and Peeta practically shudders above me, his lips parting from my skin to sigh. My fingers creep higher, pushing his shirt up as I go, until he suddenly sits up and yanks it over his head and tosses it to the floor. I have seen him shirtless before, of course, but in the semi-darkness of the room, with him hovering over me, NOT covered in blood or dirt or whatever else, it's a different experience. I reach out and press my hands against his chest, feeling his heart pound behind the warm flesh and bone. My fingers spread through the light smattering of hair I can barely see, and it springs back against my touch. I trail lower, thumbs just barely brushing his nipples, and he jumps with a sound that is part sigh, part groan. Suddenly, I want to kiss his chest, to feel his pulse against my lips, so I move against him and press his shoulder and hip until he rolls over.

I end up straddling him. He seems to like this change of scenery, because his hands find my hips in an instant and he's pulling me down to him for another heated kiss. I pull away and copy his early ministrations, nibbling on his jaw and his earlobe, eliciting more sighs and whispers of my name. I kiss down his neck and across his collarbone as his hands grip my hips and then my waist, pulling my shirt up inch by inch, caressing the small of my back and the curve of my spine. He holds me as close as he can, his fingers creeping up my back until my top joins his on the floor.

I freeze, covering myself. Having been asleep, I hadn't been wearing a bra, and being topless in on top of Peeta is admittedly a little daunting. All I can think about are my scars, some still raw and red, others a new baby pink. The only light in the room is that from the moon outside, and I know there is no way he can really make them out, but I'm mortified. I am ugly and I do not want him to see. But Peeta sits up, keeping me on his lap, and without moving his eyes from mine, he takes my wrists and gently puts my arms back at my sides. My heart is racing and I want to cover my face when his gaze moves down, but I don't. Instead, I watch as his expression melts into something like awe. His hands find my waist and he lowers his mouth to my breasts, softly placing a kiss on each one, breathing the word "perfect" onto my skin.

I sigh. How could I have been so afraid and self-conscious with him? I finally understand his words to Haymitch before we went into the arena the first time. If I didn't know the effect I could have then, I certainly do now.

I bring my hands up to cradle Peeta's head as his lips close around my nipple, warm and wet, and it strikes my core like a jolt of electricity. I feel wetness pool between my legs as he continues to bestow kisses on my breasts. I can also feel the growing hardness between his legs pressing against me, but I have no more room in me to be embarrassed. He can't stop now, and neither can I. Still, all of this is so new, and I'm tentative with my actions, afraid I'll somehow mess up or do something wrong. Peeta doesn't seem to care. Every time his eyes open they are the darkest of blue and he looks at me with so much passion and desire that it's almost too much to take. It's like staring at the sun. But that is what he is: the sunlight for the frail little dandelion inside of me, the banisher of all of the dark and shadowy things in my mind. He makes me radiant and new. And I will absorb as much of that light as I can to become human again.

Our lips meet again, swollen and wet. We kiss, slowly, deeply, but desperate for more. His hands are at my hips, pressing me to him, and the feel of our bare chests against each others makes my skin break out in goosebumps. I sigh his name, and his hands dip lower, to the small of my back and then beneath the waistband of my sleeping pants. And then, so slowly it's like he's trying to be sneaky in case I catch him, his hands slip beneath the fabric of my underwear. Peeta's hands are on my ass, cupping each cheek and lifting me to him. I can't help but move my hips forward, pressing against the bulge in his pants. It's like electricity between us.

Peeta sucks in his breath through clenched teeth and releases it with a low "fuck." If I weren't thinking the same thing, I might have laughed. My pulse is racing and all I want is for Peeta to touch me there again. And like he can read my mind (or more likely see it on my face), he reaches down between us and presses his thumb against my most sensitive spot through my clothes, and my forehead falls against his with a gasp. Our lips come together and our tongues fight for dominance and the next thing I know I am on my back with Peeta above me. His knee is between my legs and he presses it against me, and I can't help but moan.

Peeta smirks at me and I want to scowl back but I can't. At most, I manage an angry whimper as he sits back on his heels and watches me with bright, almost fevered eyes.

"Beautiful," he mutters, and thankfully he ducks his head back down to my breasts in time to miss my blush. He plants kisses down my body, nuzzling at my belly and continuing on until I am anxiously lifting my hips so that he can slide my bottoms off. He tosses them to the floor with the rest of our clothes and then sits back again. I lie naked and open to him. I do not tremble. I simply give him his moment of victory.

But he sits over me for a long time, and I get nervous. I reach for something to cover myself as I ask, "Is something wrong?"

He snaps out of his daze and his eyes lock onto mine. "No," he says. "I just..." He reaches out and traces a fingertip over my hipbone, stopping just short of the junction of my thighs and the epicenter of the raging desire within me. I catch my breath, and Peeta leans down to meet me in an open-mouthed kiss.

"Better than any dream," he murmurs against my mouth, and I wrap my arms around him to pull him closer. His hand strokes my side and then stops at my thigh.

"Peeta..." I plead, and he fumbles for my entrance, sliding one thick finger slowly into me and making me gasp. I think he does, too.

"So wet," I hear him mutter against my neck. It's only a little uncomfortable, but my hips jerk up and he pumps his finger in and out of me, and I grip at his shoulders and back. He adds a second finger and I moan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. I don't think I can take anymore.

I run my hands down his back until I reach the waistband of his pants. I hook my thumbs under the elastic and yank down, coming into contact with the firmness of his buttocks for the first time. It distracts me from my original plan, and I cup each cheek in my hands like he had done to me, enjoying the solid feel of them in my palms. I wriggle beneath him as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of my body. I'm almost dizzy with want, and without thinking I reach around and take his erection in my hand. Peeta freezes and a strangled groan falls from his mouth.

I'm unsure of what to do. He's hard as steel but silky smooth in my hand. I run my fingers along his length, watching his face carefully, and when he doesn't tell me to stop, I wrap my fingers around his shaft and stroke up and down. I swear Peeta might break into pieces. Jumbled words and moans spill from his lips, and the fingers he had stilled inside of me move again, until we are both straining toward each other, sweat beading on our skin. But it isn't enough.

"Peeta, I want you."

He freezes and stares at me, unsure of if I really said it, so I say it again, reinforcing my words by wrapping one leg around his.

"Katniss, I -"

"I've already told you I don't want you to stop."

He hesitates, but only for another moment, and then I am helping him push his pants further down and he is stirring himself at my entrance, making me buck up against him. He pushes against me but slides away, rubbing against my nub and making me cry out. He tries again and slips away again, and I giggle at his frustration as he mumbles something about "too wet" and "slippery" and I finally take him in my hand and guide him to the right spot. It take a bit of adjusting, and he presses the tip against me and pushes forward. This time he slips inside of me a little, and I wince. He apologizes and kisses me and in one thrust sheaths himself inside of me.

I can't help but cry out from the immediate discomfort, but his lips stay on mine and with a few tentative thrusts the hunger from before starts to return. My head falls back with a moan, and he kisses my neck as he moves inside me.

"Love you," he murmurs into my skin. "I've always loved you."

I pull him as close to me as I can, hooking my knees on his hips and rocking against him. "I'm yours," I murmur back, clutching his body, holding on for dear life. "I have always been yours."

His mouth devours mine, and a hand slips between us and a thumb presses circles against my clit and I am sent toward the edge, crying out at we find a rhythm and Peeta pounds into me.

"Peeta, please!" I pant, digging my nails into his shoulders. We are desperate, still not close enough, and from somewhere deep inside of me a growl emerges and I say into his ear, "Don't stop. Make me yours. Show me I'm yours."

Something shifts in him, something primal and possessive, and his hips jerk, meeting mine with the harsh slap of skin on skin. He is so deep and I am stretched so tightly; every plunge into me sends lightning radiating out from my core. I hear a keening noise, rising high above heavy breaths and I think it might be me. I open my eyes and see blue and so much love and desperation that there's no way I could force myself to look away. But he catches on a spot inside of me and that's it - I am shattered. Every muscle in my body tenses and I throw my head back, crying out with the sheer force of my orgasm as he continues to move within me. I am mumbling his name over and over and gripping every part of him I can reach, urging him to come to me, to make me his, and then with a jerk of his hips and strangled moan, he spills himself deep inside of me and collapses on top of me.

His weight is surprisingly comfortable, and we shake in each others arms, slowly coming to with exhausted kisses and lethargic movements. After a while, we separate, and he gathers me to him, curling around me, and his lips find my shoulder.

"You're mine," he breathes, his arms encircling me and holding me tight. "Real or not real?"

Exhaustion and bliss threaten to drown me, but I snuggle back into his chest and kiss the hand that is intertwined with mine and whisper, "Real." I feel him sigh and kiss my shoulder again.

No dreams plague me for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much to all of those who reviewed the last chapter! To those who just fav'd it and walked away... *narrows eyes* I'm watchin' you. Reviews are polite, folks! Authors want to know WHY you liked their work. So please, review! It makes us feel better. Anywho, here is part two of this duet, told from Peeta's POV. Please enjoy.

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><p>I wake up early like always. I'll forever be on a baker's schedule, no matter how much I dream of just once sleeping in. I especially regret it this morning. I was afraid to open my eyes in case it had all been a dream, but I crack one open and see her there and I sigh in relief. She's curled next to me, her dark hair spread across the pillow and my chest. Her hand rests just above my heart. I can't see her face from this angle, but I know exactly what her expression is - soft, relaxed. Peaceful. And her lips pouting out just barely, almost making her look infantile. She'd hate to hear me say that, but it's the truth.<p>

I know she's naked beneath the sheets. I can feel her smooth skin along my whole body, and it still gives me goosebumps. My thoughts drift to the night before - just a few hours ago, really - when everything came to a standstill. Time, my heart, all of it. My hand brushes through her hair and a small noise comes from her throat. My head is spinning.

She's finally mine. I'm the one she can't survive without. She needs me like I need her. She loves me, I know she does. Really this time. Maybe she always has and she just didn't know it.

I feel my face split into a grin and all I want to do is wake her with kisses and never let her go. But I decide to let her sleep. She needs it.

I carefully extract my arm from under her and slip out of bed, tucking the covers back around her. She whimpers a bit and her brows crease. She does this every time I get up in the morning, and I always respond the same: brush her hair back and kiss her forehead. This morning I let my lips linger a little longer, then I find my shorts and sleep pants and pull them on. I leave the room and Katniss to go downstairs. It's a Sunday, so I don't have to go into the bakery. My assistant Raab can handle anyone that comes in. I take the rare opportunity of free time to make a real breakfast. Eggs and bacon and cooked grain with dried fruit. The trains aren't scheduled to come in for another week, so its not my first choice for breakfast in bed, but it'll do. At least I have dried plums.

I set to work, making a quick loaf of bread from the starter I keep in the cabinet and sliding it into the oven to bake. While it does, I cook up oat and wheat meal and mix in dried plums and apples and raisins. I even make hot chocolate because I know she likes to dip her bread in it. I'm pulling the bread from the oven when I hear her footsteps upstairs. I'm so anxious that the oven mitt I'm using slips and my hand comes into contact with the hot bread pan.

That's when the world starts to get shiny.

I dimly hear a crash, and my last coherent thought before my mind erupts is that I've dropped the damn bread.

Images flash before my eyes and I dig my fingers into something, I don't know what, and feel a stinging pain. I smell fire. Something's burning. Children. They were in the hospital. Innocent. Katniss, Girl on Fire, she set them on fire, she's burning them, laughing as they are burned black like bread in the ashes. No, I did that. I burned the bread. Mom beat me. Did I burn the children, too? Katniss. She no it was me for her, would've died - kill her - no I love her. She's mine, always mine. Always mine won't let her go even if she burned it down. Children, they're on fire, they're screaming my name, why are they screaming at me?

"Peeta!"

I wrench away from their hands reaching for me. They call my name over and over, reaching out, trying to grab me, hold me still, keep me from running. Their eyes are burning. They're staring, pleading -

"Peeta, come back!"

Hands on me. Eyes. Grey eyes. Like mockingjay wings. I know these eyes.

"Peeta, come back to me. It's not real. Whatever it is, it isn't real. Come back."

Not real?

"Peeta, it's Katniss. Remember? Remember last night. That's real."

Last night? Flesh. Burning flesh, but not from fire. Not a real fire. Hands, cool on my face. Grey eyes, beautiful. Katniss.

"Katniss?"

Lips against mine. Strong. Taste sweet. I know these lips.

My hands unclench and grasp arms, not mine. I press my lips back against hers. I feel a warm wetness against my cheek. Tears? Are they hers or mine?

The lips pull away and I can see again. I'm on the floor or the kitchen. Dishes are shattered on the floor. I think I fell on some of the shards. Something is burning on the stove, judging by the smell. And Katniss is on her knees in front of me, her face a mask of worry and fear.

"Peeta?" Her voice cracks.

I stare past her for another minute or two, then say, "I'm okay." I push myself to my feet and wince. I think a plate fragment went into my leg. There's no blood, really, but it hurts like hell, like the vase shards in my hand before the first arena. Katniss is staring at me anxiously.

"I heard a crash, so I came downstairs..." She falters, and I just shake my head.

"It's okay. I just... had a moment." An episode. An attack. Whatever you want to call it, though personally 'hell' sounds the most accurate.

She nods at me, unsure of what to say. This isn't the first time she's seen it happen, and it won't be the last, but every time she's uncertain. If I'm really okay, if I'm really back. I can see in her eyes, _Is he going to try to kill me?_ She doesn't understand that just her being there, to wait it out and bring me back, means more to me than anything.

"The bread seems okay," I hear her say, and I watch her set it on the table. Unfortunately, the eggs and bacon and grain are burned beyond being edible.

"Sorry. I wanted to make breakfast for you, something special -"

She blushes and looks down at the floor, then begins picking up pieces of broken plate so that I can't see her face.

"It's okay," she says. "We can make something else." She picks up the last few shards, then notices my leg. I was wrong about it not bleeding.

"Peeta! Your leg!"

I glance down at it. Still hurts, but I've had worse. Obviously.

"It's fine, just a scratch -"

She raises her eyebrows at me. "You need a bandage. Hold on." She stands and throws the broken plate pieces into the trashbin then leaves the kitchen, I guess to get the first aid kit. She comes back with the little white box from the closet.

"Turn around."

I comply quickly, knowing if I resist she'll just get more upset. I glance over my shoulder to see her kneel down next to my leg, her brows creased and her cheeks slowly emptying of color. I still don't understand how she can still get sick at the sight of blood after all we've been through, but then again...

Her fingers carefully prod at the puncture in my sleep pants, making me wince, and then she pulls away. I look down at her again, and find she's already looking up at me.

"What?"

Some of the color returns to her face in what I think is a blush. "You need - I'll have to take your pajama pants off to -"

I smirk at her. "Okay. Not like you haven't seen me in less." Her blush deepens and I laugh. "Katniss, really? After-?"

Her face is burning red. I can see it crawl up her scalp through the part in her hair. "I know! This is different. Now take them off."

I smirk at her again. "Yes, ma'am." She punches my hip but it lacks any real force behind it, and I push my sleep pants down until they're around my ankles and step out of them. I'm standing in front of her in nothing but my underwear. I shouldn't feel self-conscious. Hell, I was naked with her only hours ago. But I shuffle my feet. This is broad daylight. It's different now. Especially when she's on her knees and at eye level with my crotch. God, I hope I don't pitch a tent here. She'd run for sure.

But she doesn't seem to notice, or if she does, she's doing a really good job of acting like she doesn't. Katniss dabs at the blood around the puncture, then without warning pulls the tiny shard from my thigh. It felt a lot bigger than it was. She smears some ointment over the wound and wraps a bandage around it, then sits back on her heels. I turn and look at her, but her eyes are elsewhere. On my leg. My artificial limb.

"Katniss?"

The look on her face is hard to describe. I can see that she's upset, but it's tinged with sadness and pity and just the slightest bit of anger. They all fight to cross her face as she reaches out and gently touches my metal knee. Now I know another reason for my nerves. She's never seen the Capitol contraption up close. I've never let her. But I let her now. She deserves to see it, to know about it. I've given her all of me, and unfortunately that includes a prosthetic limb.

I watch her examine the leg, and though technically I have no nerves past my mid-thigh, I know exactly when she touches me, even when I'm only watching her face. Her fingers move up from the knee, across the translucent but harder-than-steel plastic plates that cover the metal mesh and underlying mechanisms that connect to the remaining ends of muscle and bone in my left thigh. Another plastic plate covers what would be my shin, and I know she can see the mechanism working as I shift from foot to foot. She seems fascinated by it, and I don't blame her. It's an unreal example of the Capitol's endless resources and technological superiority over the Districts. Wrong as it is, I was lucky that they could save my life, even if it meant losing flash and blood and replacing it with metal.

Katniss' fingers travel lower, around my ankle, and then her eyes are scanning the individual 'tendons' in my foot. I'm waiting anxiously for her to say something. I just didn't expect her to say what she does.

"You have toes."

It's a statement, full of surprise. I laugh.

"Yeah. I can move them, too." I lift my foot and wiggle the metal toes in front of her face. Her eyes widen and she shoves my foot away from her face. I laugh again, though she doesn't seem amused. She packs up the little first aid kit and stands in a huff.

"It's not your fault, you know," I say as she walks away. "There's nothing more you could've done. You know that."

She sighs. "I know. But it doesn't mean I have to like it."

I nod, understanding. She leaves to put the kit away and I lean back against the counter. There's blood on my sleep pants so I don't bother putting them back on. Besides, she can get used to seeing me in my underwear. There's no going back.

When Katniss returns I'm drinking hot chocolate at the table. It was the only thing besides the bread that hadn't been ruined by my hijack attack. She doesn't say anything about my continued state of undress, so after offering her a mug I bring it up myself.

"About last night -"

She chokes on her drink and sputters. "Peeta -"

"Listen." I stare her down until she looks at me in defeat. "When I told you last night that I couldn't stop, I meant that for more than just last night." Her eyebrows rise, but I press on. "Katniss, I couldn't have you twice before now. I'll be damned if I have to let you get away again after last night."

She stares into her mug, clearly uncomfortable. I'm making her discuss her feelings in broad daylight. I know she hates it. She hates being vulnerable. But she has to know that I can't go back. We can't go back, not after last night. I've had the full taste. I've had _her_, and I'll die before she tells me that it was a mistake or that she's not ready or that -

"Okay."

It's my turn to sputter. She quirks a small smile. I stare at her in disbelief.

"What?"

She looks back into her mug. "You're right. Besides, I meant everything I said last night." She pauses, psyching herself up. "I need you, Peeta," she whispers, and her eyes come up to meet mine. "I won't let you go again."

And in that moment I could not love her more. I take her hand and pull her towards me. She rises from her chair and steps around the table to stand before me. She licks her lips and I pull her down to sit on my lap and our lips meet. It quickly grows in passion and her mouth opens to mine and she tastes like hot chocolate. My hands grasp her hips, holding her tightly to me. Her pelvis shifts forward to make herself more comfortable, but she rubs against my lower body and I feel myself grow hard. I'm about to pull away to tell her we should probably stop when she swings one of her legs over and straddles my lap. I groan into her mouth as she settles against the new bulge in my shorts. I feel her smirk against my lips and I finally pull away to meet her eyes.

"Katniss..."

"Hmm?" Her hands are splayed across my chest, her fingers curled in the hair there. She's looking at me with soft eyes, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She's never looked more beautiful to me, with her sleep shirt slipping off of one shoulder and her hair still loose around her face and pelvis pressed against mine and -

"Peeta?"

I reach up and tangle my fingers in her hair. She turns her cheek into my palm, her eyes closing as she presses her lips to the base of my thumb.

"I love you." I can't help it. It spills from my mouth before I can stop it. Her eyes flutter open, dove grey and liquid, and she smiles softly.

"I know," she whispers, and then leans forward and kisses me on the lips. I understand what it means. The time for words is past. Now touch takes over.

Images of the previous night blur with the things I experience now. My lips find her neck and I sink my teeth into the soft skin beneath her ear. She gasps, arching into me, and my hands grasp at her back, her hips, her ass, around to her front to clutch at her breasts through her shirt, kneading them and rolling her nipples between my thumb and first finger. I will never be able to get enough of her. For years this was the only thing I could dream about, and now, after surviving hell and worse, she is here, the object of my wildest fantasies, warm and soft and willing in my arms.

My hands slide up the curve of her spine and I pull her shirt up and she reaches to yank it over her head. In the chill of the room I watch as her nipples harden before my eyes. I duck my head down and capture one in my mouth, lightly sucking. I breathe her in as she arches and sighs my name. This is my greatest dream become reality. My thumbs trace her scars, the patchwork of burns and cuts along her arms and sides. We take the time to discover and rediscover each other, outlining scars and burns that are still tender and pink, laying feather-light kisses on old and new wounds alike. She moves against me, her nipples like little jolts of electricity as they rub against my chest, her pelvis grinding against mine and making lights flash behind my eyes. When I feel her whisper into my skin, "Take me," I don't have the will to deny her.

In one quick movement I stand, picking her up with me and then setting her on the table. She raises her hips so that I can pull her pants and underwear down her legs, and I kiss every inch of her I can as I do so, and now in the light of day I can finally see all of her. What hid in shadow last night is open to me now. My eyes slide down her body, coming to rest of the patch of dark curls at the junction of her thighs. I feel myself straining against my underwear and I want nothing more than to bury myself inside of her and never leave. But the way she looks at me, with swollen lips and flushed skin and fiery eyes, makes me want to worship her and giver her everything.

"God, Katniss," I murmur, and then I'm pushing her back against the tabletop and kissing her taut belly and downward until I find her core and I touch my tongue to her folds. She jerks and says my name, that I don't have to do this, but I ignore her and spread her legs and kiss her there until she falls back with a sigh. Carefully I run my tongue over her nub and her hips twitch up and a moan escapes her throat. I smirk against her and do it again and again until she is pleading for me to take her. Her fingers pull at my hair but I don't stop. I'd do anything to hear her make those sounds again, to hear her voice so low and raw calling my name. She starts to tremble, and I slide a finger into her tight, wet heat and her hips buck against my mouth. I can't help but grin. For once, I have the upper hand. I have her at my mercy. And from the look in her eyes when I glance up at her, she is just fine with it. But still she begs, and so I straighten and push my underwear down enough to free my erection. I watch her there, her eyes dark grey and boring into mine. But I have to look away. I have to watch myself enter her, just to believe that it's real. I bury my length inside of her and she cries out, but it's like listening from inside a bubble. My blood is pounding in my ears and in my cock and all I can feel is _her_, hot and grasping and so damn perfect...

Katniss moves against me, bringing me back to awareness. She's laid out before me, beautiful and perfect, and her legs wrap around my waist to pull me closer and deeper. I have to be careful, go slow, or I'll lose it before she's through, but she's working against me. She's desperate for her own completion, beginning me in a ragged voice to take her, to make her mine.

Doesn't she know she already is, that she always has been?

I can't hold back anymore, and so I give in to her pleas. I slam into her over and over, stretching myself out over her to kiss her lips as I fill her again and again. She writhes beneath me, making little desperate mewling noises, clawing and grasping to get what she wants. She is on fire, around me and beneath me and I begin to shake with the effort of holding back. But then she's stiffening and I feel her clench around me and she cries out, moaning my name and clinging to me as I manage one, two more thrusts until her orgasm milks mine from me. Fireworks explode behind my eyes and I fall forward, shaking as I empty into her. I feel her lips on my face and she smooths my hair from my forehead and all I can do is hold her to me. I'm probably crushing her but she doesn't seem to mind. We try to catch our breath, kissing each other long and slow, until I raise myself onto my elbows and look her in the eye.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

And she cups my cheek in her hand and smiles and whispers softly, "Real."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thank you for reading! Please review and tell me what you thought. Also, stick around, because I will soon be posting a new Hunger Games story! Thanks so much!


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